A Tasty Dish to Set Before
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Spock encounters T'Pring a couple years after the events in "Amok Time"
1. Spock One

A Tasty Dish To Set Before

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Title: A Tasty Dish to Set Before

Author: Stephen

Series: TOS

Codes: S/Tpg

Challenge: Biblically Speaking

Summary: Spock encounters T'Pring a couple years after the events in "Amok Time"

"I will seek that which was lost, and bring again that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen that which was sick."

— First part of Ezekiel 34:16, King James (Authorized) Version.

**Spock One**

She was seated on the bench in the middle of the park. Her pose was perfect, the classic meditation pose that Spock had often attempted to hold but never quite able to do so. Something always prevented him. The heat rose, sending waves of distortion across the ground, but she showed no sign of it.

Spock stood in the archway marking the East entry to the park, his Star Fleet Uniform replaced by the traditional hooded cloak and tunic of his family. It provided him with some anonymity, welcome given the press following the end of the Enterprise's recent five year mission.

He hadn't really expected her to be in this particular park. Though on reflection, he should have. It was in this park that he'd first gotten to know her. Like most Vulcan parks of the area, it was simple, a stone path weaving among artfully placed stones and benches, with raked sand patterns, and hardy shrubs.

She was sitting on the very bench where they'd had their first kiss. It had been unexpected, though they were betrothed already, the sweet touch of their lips together had been thrilling. He'd missed that. Not that they'd ever done it much.

The last time had been before he had departed for the Enterprise the first time, to serve under Captain Pike. It had been much more animated, when their lips had met under the very arch which Spock now stood. It was that kiss that had filled his mind when plak tow hit him a couple years before.

He'd missed her, but she had found another and rejected him in that very time. The memory of the rejection filled his mind momentarily, but he rejected the urge to turn around and leave. Instead he walked forward, towards her.

Her eyes were closed, and she faced away from his current winding path, but he did not get close before some vestige of the bond they once shared warned her. Her eyes opened, and she lost her perfect pose. Her shoulders dropped, and her arms fell limply to her sides.

"Spock." His name was filled with longing, longing streaked with regret and the knowledge that she had forfeited her rights with him. It was strange how a single word conveyed so much, how one name, said in a low raspy voice could tell so much, even with Vulcan stoicism.

"T'Pring." Spock found his own voice echoing hers in longing, but not in regret. His closer position revealed a woman dressed in clothes that had seen better days, worn, frayed at the cuffs, dulled by the sun, and grayed with age. Her hair was no longer in braids. No longer did it look like she'd spent hours trying to look her best. Instead of the Vulcan Princess, before him on the bench sat an exhausted salary woman. "It is good to see you again."

"I never expected to see you again." The words came out flat, as she turned towards Spock, her eyes remained downcast. It looked to Spock as if she'd aged decades in just two years. What had been lines that only appeared during her rare laughs, were now just lines. What had been eyes surrounded by artfully applied make up, were now surrounded by the dark circles of one who had been unable to get enough sleep.

"And I you," Spock acknowledged. "I have not heard of you. How is Stonn?" At his question she looked up, and her eyes burned into Spock. A newly lit fire found its way into her, as her pose sharpened.

"Stonn is dead." Then the fire left her, and her body slumped, and her eyes dropped to the ground. "He died in plak tow. He couldn't bond to me. He couldn't bond to me, even though I was fertile. I tried, we tried, but it didn't work. They said it wasn't my fault, but we didn't bond and he's dead, dead even though he left me with child."

"I grieve with thee," Spock replied formally. Somehow his hand found its way to rest on her shoulder to comfort her. He moved to sit next to her, and placed his arm around her, as he had learnt that humans did when comforting the grieving on the Enterprise.

"I don't even get the comfort of my own daughter in my arms anymore. They took her away from me last week when I lost my apartment. Stonn's family has her now. I don't know what to do. I'm living from paycheck to paycheck, going deeper and deeper in debt with each week. They fired me yesterday. Last night I slept under a bridge, and all I've had to eat today was a peppermint candy I took from the hospitality candy dish."

Spock looked at the woman who he'd loved. All the gloss and glamour were gone now. She looked nothing like the woman who'd spurned him at the place of marriage, as Doctor McCoy had said, the woman who'd left him at the altar. The woman before him had lost it all. She'd been a girl born to privilege, now she had none. She had nothing.

He placed his arm under hers, and pulled her to standing. "Come with me, T'Pring. I believe I still owe you dinner. There is a place my mother recommend just a block from here that she says serves a wonderful spinach fettuccini alfredo. I believe it was your favorite human dish."


	2. T'Pring One

**T'Pring One**

He sits across from me as if no time had passed. For a moment in this private room I wanted to believe that. I wanted it to be just like it was before he joined the crew of the Enterprise. I can't though. Too much has changed. I rejected him, and then had a child with the man who I'd rejected him for. Now I was just another widow with a young child, a child I could not even keep. I can't even keep a job anymore.

He's off the Enterprise now. I want to see that as hope. Commander Spock chi' Sarek has returned to Vulcan. He hasn't returned for me. He may be seated across from me, but he's left me behind.

My last immediate supervisor thinks he'll be Captain of the new Intrepid when she commissions next year. I don't think so. He's never wanted command before. Perhaps that's changed.

My food arrived before his. The waiter is still trying to hide his glare at me. My dusty tattered clothes don't exactly fit with the standards of this place. He'd paid for the private room as a compromise. I was surprised.

"Eat. It is illogical for one to wait for the other when one is malnourished like yourself," Spock said. "My meal will come soon enough." I followed his instructions, and began to eat the spinach fettuccini alfredo. The portion I had been allotted seemed more than the medium serving which I had ordered.

The food is good. I have to force myself to go slow and savor the taste. He says I'm malnourished. He is not far from the truth. An order of bread sticks is placed next to my plate, as his food finally arrives.

"I find that I am in need of a house resident," Spock said, as his own food arrived. "With my duties to Star Fleet, I am quite often unable to give my parent's old cottage the attention it deserves. They would have to be someone who is aware of the various traditional objects that have accumulated, there of course. I understand that you are considered an expert on the objects of the House of Surak."

"If study to impress one's once expected to be in-laws is to be considered," T'Pring replied, as Spock twisted a load of spaghetti on his fork. She was quiet for a moment, as it suddenly hit her that Spock might be offering her a job. A job she need, and possibly a place to live again. Picking up her statement, as if there hadn't been a pause long enough for Spock to consume several fork fulls of the red sauce covered noodles, T'Pring met Spock's gaze for the first time, "then perhaps I might be considered for the job?" She tried to choke back her desperation, but she was sure it was conveyed to Spock anyway.

Spock put down his fork, and T'Pring thought she could detect the slightest of smiles. At first her hopes rose, then they quickly fell as her mind fell back to the cruel rut it had been in. No one could help her. "T'Pring," he began, and she thought she could hear the rejection already. "You are the only one I'd consider." Her heart started beating again. "You know ever object in that attic. After all, you told me about most of them. You even translated the Ancient Vulcan inscription over the door for my mother, who by the way, prefers your more idiomatic version than the official one. I believe you will wish to move in today. The Beige room is available."

T'Pring could not look away from Spock, even as he looked down to resume eating. For the first time in months, her heart soared with hope. He was going to help her. He was going to help the woman he'd scorned her. Suddenly she found herself recalling the rebellion that Spock had led in their Study of Leadership class, when the teacher had told them to pick a leader from their homeworlds to present on. Spock had led that class into avoiding all Vulcans in those reports that week, and the words of the leader he'd chosen for her now suddenly echoed in her mind. 'With malice towards none, with charity for all...'

Vulcan stoicism broke. The last bit of emotional control fell with Spock's offer, and tears began to flow down T'Pring's cheeks. Her gaze dropped to the still quite full plate of her favorite Terran dish as a sob escaped her. As the tears flowed, she found Spock next to her, his arm around her in comfort again, and his other hand filled with a cloth napkin, gently wiping away her tears as she struggled to control herself again. She found herself turning into Spock's embrace, burying her face into his tunic, emotional control still failing, her emotional release ... inappropriate, she knew, but her control was gone as emotions rang out of her, the frustrations, anger, and sadness wrenching out of the Vulcan, wishing she had the excuse of Spock's human half.

Eventually, it all drained from her, and she pulled back from Spock's tunic. Her tears had left their mark on it. "Spock," she began but words failed her again. She tried to compose herself, but then she recalled the room he'd offered her. Dare she hope that all was forgiven? She dared not. She straightened up in her seat, and Spock let his arm drop away from her shoulders, as he wiped away the last of her tears. A short, attempting to be formal, emotions barely in check response was all she could say, "I thank thee."

"No thanks are necessary," Spock replied, as he resumed his seat. "I shall be in the Bronze room, myself, as long as I am here on Vulcan. I have accumulated a significant amount of leave, and am under orders to use it while the Enterprise is beginning her refit."

As Spock took another fork full of his dish, T'Pring remembered the rumors she'd heard about Spock's next posting. "I heard that you were up to replace Captain Sotek of the Intrepid."

Spock's left eyebrow rose. "It was offered to me," he admitted. "However, I have a better offer to consider. When I complete the mandated portion of my leave, I have been asked to oversee the refit of the Enterprise as her new Captain. Admiral Noriega would not accept my answer immediately, however, insisting that such a decision should not be made lightly. I am inclined to accept it, should I decide not to enter the Kolinahr."

The idea that Spock would seek out the Kolinahr did not surprise T'Pring, nor did the offer of command of the Enterprise. She had witnessed his final interview with the Vulcan Science Academy. Hers was right after his, and his had nearly derailed hers. Logic did not always rule such interviews, as both of theirs had shown. She had nearly followed Spock's actions, but she didn't have Spock's acceptance to Star Fleet Academy to fall back on, and if she was honest with herself ... today seemed to be a day for that ... she had thought the thought to turn them down was coming from Spock over their betrothal bond. Today, she was no longer so sure that it had been.

She looked up at Spock again. "I have long wondered, Spock, why you did not share your desire to join Star Fleet with me before you sent out your application," T'Pring asked. "I did not find out until you went before the Admissions board at the Science Academy. It made me unsure." T'Pring wasn't sure why she'd added that last sentence. In the silence that followed, though, long ago repressed emotions rose again. She had applied to the Science Academy to be with Spock, to share his goals, and he had found other goals, never telling her. That first betrayal rose again and was slain by his concern for her.

"I was afraid that you would let my father know," Spock admitted. "My human fear suppressed the trust of our bond." His eyes were focused on twirling another load of spaghetti onto his fork, longer that it needed to be. "I must purge myself of emotion if I am to be a proper Vulcan."

T'Pring snapped her attention to focus right on to Spock's face. His eyes were still downcast. "I thought you had long ago decided that being a complete proper Vulcan would be a betrayal of what you are." Her emotions were still close to the surface, and she could not stop them from effecting her tone. "Did you not tell me such words before your departure for Star Fleet Academy? Are you not an adult, who has forged his own path, a path which is well thought of among both sides of your heritage?"

Spock looked up, and his gaze met with hers. She could tell he felt the verbal gauntlet hit the floor. The eyebrow rose again. "That, I missed." He kept his focus on her, and returned it. "I do wonder what really happened to cause you to give up on me. Surely it wasn't my legendary stature."

T'Pring gathered her thoughts, attempting to stop his gaze from them away. "You are a legend among our people, Spock," she said as firmly as she could. "Do not deny that. It started even when we were still adolescents. The Scholar Sopel still recalls your actions in Study of Leadership. Do you not recall when the score of us all took your suggestions, your lead, in selecting those human leaders? I am reliably informed that some of those leaders are now part of the scholar's lectures, particularly the speeches of Lincoln, Kennedy, and Obama."

"I am afraid that I have had no further contact with the scholar since our graduation," Spock replied, his gaze still locked on hers.

"You are aware that you are the only one to turn down a place at the Vulcan Science Academy once offered in two thousand years?" T'Pring said. He nodded. "Then that point, you can not deny me." His gaze still was locked on her. "I did not want to marry a legend, a man who had left me behind. You know, Spock, I applied to the Science Academy because I wanted to join you there. I did not have a real vocation for the Sciences. I did manage an advanced degree in Stellar Mechanics with concentrations in Planetary Science and Cultural Development, but I had no passion in it."

"Yes, I said passion," T'Pring said forcefully. "Your mother once had an argument with the translation of the word cthia, which is commonly translated as lack of emotions, or emotional repression. Passion's mastery is the best translation, and you will remember that. You were my passion, and I was bound to you, but you did not even share your plans with me. I felt betrayal, and you left me." The force drained from T'Pring's voice as she recalled those days, and her gaze dropped again. "Without your support I could not follow, and my passion drained. By the time I met Stonn, there was a hole in my katra that you were meant to fill."

"He filled a little of it," T'Pring admitted. "And I was afraid you would come back and take what little I had managed to salvage from your departure. My passions lacked mastery and I grasped at the little I had, finding a way that I could have at least have Stonn, rather than a man who did not want me. And by that, I lost everything." Appetite nearly gone, but words wrung out of her, T'Pring returned to consuming her meal.

Spock's voice was soft, and she could tell that her words had reached him. "I never knew. T'Pring, T'Pring, I did not know I had hurt you so. You were my betrothed, my bond, my friend, and it grieves me that I did such harm to you." The rest of their meal was in silence.


	3. Spock Two

**Spock Two**

Spock looked in on his one time betrothed. T'Pring laid beneath only a thin golden sheet, her clothes neatly folded on a chair near the bed. The Beige Room, as his mother had named it, had been T'Pring's room when she came to visit Spock. It had long since been made over with her touch. The very sheet that covered T'Pring's naked body had been chosen by her ... had it really been twenty years before? By the window there was the odd S shaped sofa that T'Pring said was from the sixth revival of a particular pre-Reformation Vulcan style known as Shat, that had once had himself and his male acquaintances from intermediate school giggling. He'd later found that despite the way the seat was split by the S curve of the back, it was ideal for kissing. He found himself responding to the memory and swiftly closed the door.

His actions with T'Pring were a mystery to him. He had felt betrayed when she had refused him at pon farr, yet now, now that he'd found her destitute, not a single credit to her name, homeless, and bereft of family and clan, it mattered not to him. She was T'Pring. She was the girl his parents had chosen for him, the girl he'd become friends with. She had been his only friend at one point.

Spock wondered what Doctor McCoy would have said if he had known that. The doctor was always trying to get Spock to show emotion. He would never admit emotion to McCoy. It was just a fact of their own friendship. He had, he showed it, but he also allowed McCoy to think that he was still trying to be the emotionless pointy eared hobgoblin as the doctor often called him. Surely McCoy would have been shocked if he'd seen Spock tonight, especially if Spock were to have given into the urge, an urge he'd given into several times in his teens, to join T'Pring in that bed. The mattress was much better on that bed than his, he'd always claimed.

He crossed the hall to his own room. Tomorrow would be an early day. He hoped it would be good for T'Pring.


	4. T'Pring Two

**T'Pring Two**

Sunlight woke T'Pring. It was an experience she hadn't had in some time. The early morning light came over the mountains at the edge of the Forge and into the Beige room for just the first ten minutes after dawn. When she had slept regularly in the room, had always closed the drapes, but she hadn't remembered the night before. She stretched and got out of bed, finding a robe left in the wardrobe long before.

It was a short walk to the kitchen, where she found Spock already sipping a cup of coffee. He met her gaze as she entered the room. She inclined her head slightly, indicating the coffee, something she knew he once despised. "I see you have awoken," Spock remarked. "Would you like a cup? I'm afraid that too many late nights in the Science Lab on the Enterprise have lead me to pick up the habit. I have at least managed to improve the quality of the brew." T'Pring nodded her acceptance. The terran drink seemed to infect any profession likely to spend long hours. Despite it's somewhat bitter taste to Vulcans, it was particularly effective for them.

Just the steam rising from the hot coffee where enough to wake her up fully. T'Pring sipped from the cup, sitting across from Spock. After a few minutes of silence, she gathered her courage and spoke, "We did not talk about it last night, so I must now. What are to be my duties as resident of thy house?"

Spock reached across the island and lifted up her chin, so he could meet her eyes. "I had thought that you might manage the household, perhaps even implement some of the decorative touches that you brought up regarding the public spaces. While this was my parents house before my Great-Grandfather's passing, and as such the Vulcan residence of the Ambassador to Earth, it was appropriate that it show many works from there. However, as it is now my house by grace and favor, I find some of it lacking taste. I may be part human, but I do not share my mother's preference for Impressionist Painters."

"I think I can do that," T'Pring replied, as Spock's hand finally left her chin. Her gaze stayed where he'd directed it. "Do you still want that painting of the terran King Henry VIII removed from the study?" She knew that the way the eyes on that painting followed you had always disturbed Spock.

"Most certainly," Spock replied, as T'Pring began recalling each room and what she'd wanted to see in them. "I also expect you to keep the kitchen stocked and the house in order. In general, I wish you to be Mistress of the House."

Mistress of the House ... the use of the term stopped T'Pring's train of thought so suddenly that she barely stopped her head from doing a sudden jerk of surprise. It was a formal title, one generally only given to one's wife, or bond-mate-to-be. His gaze had slipped away from her. Spock seemed to be focused on the clock she knew was above her head on the wall behind her. Could his comment be accidental, or maybe, might he actually still want her.

"Of course, I do not expect ..." as Spock spoke again, T'Pring felt her world starting to collapse under her again, "that you will let such duties interfere with caring for your daughter." Her breath caught again. "I would not do that to you. Such behavior would be illogical, and not fitting for our House of Surak." Could he want her and her daughter. "With your consent, I wish to restore you to your place in our house, per clause forty-two."

T'Pring tried to prevent her hopes from rising, but she knew clause forty-two. After all of the trouble she'd caused Spock, he had just offered to take her back, take Stonn's daughter as his own, and even restore their betrothal. She'd once overheard a human say they needed to pinch themselves to see if they were dreaming, and today, that was a recommendation that she took. She wasn't. There was only one response, but with the emotions swirling around her, she barely managed to keep it in the proper tone. "I do so consent to restore our bond."

Spock reached across the table, and with an expert's touch, the comforting presences that she had not realized she'd missed was restored. Stonn's bond had been firm, unyielding, and strong. Spock's was soft, comforting, and flowing. He gently linked their minds, going from nothing to a deep betrothal bond so smoothly that T'Pring only realized he'd done it when his hand pulled away, and he said, "my beloved."

The term was not a Vulcan one, but then Spock was not just Vulcan. She could feel his emotion, his love, his respect, his pleasure, through the bond now. They pulled at her, they comforted her, and they drove her to drop her own hardened barriers. The love she had felt from Spock, T'Pring returned with her own, as she echoed him, "my beloved."

The coffee was cold by the time the chimes interrupted there bonding induced pleasure. The Westminster chimes announced that someone was at the door. Spock stood. "That should be our daughter arriving."

The rest of the day was a blur to T'Pring.

...

_Author's Note:_

_Originally there was another scene after this, but I've decided that it didn't fit. So I'm trashing that scene for now. Instead I'm in the process of creating a pair of new scenes. Reviews stating that you think is missing, or should happen may influence these scenes._


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